KindaSorta
by Darker Still
Summary: One-shot. FAX. Max thinks about how Fang never said "I love you" back, and finally tells him without the aid of any Valium. T for some language.


**A/N: Okay. This one should be making history. I ****never**** write one-shots. And this is the first story I have up with no OCs. Sooo…sorry if it's totally OOC, because I know that that gets annoying and sorry if it's cliché. But I'm giving it a shot. Anyway, this randomly came to me last night: I remembered a random quote from the fourth book, and it's been embedded into my head. Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters; they're all James Patterson's. All right, heads up? It gets kinda fluffy at the end. Good feedback will make me smile. **

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**Kinda-Sorta**

I was thinking. Particularly hard. Believe me, it was quite a change for me. Well, not the thinking hard part; it was what I was thinking _about_ that definitely wasn't natural. Not Max-compatible.

And it was _reeeally_ starting to freak me out.

I was cross-legged on my bed, with a composition book sitting open to the first page in front of me. There was a pencil sitting in the binding, holding it open. The page was completely spotless, and it was absolutely intimidating.

I was staring at the comp book, and it was staring right back at me.

I wanted to write something—I had one of those literal burning urges to just _write_ something. Poetry, random fairy tale. Whatever would relieve all of this freaking tension.

I picked up the pencil, and held it a few inches above the paper, thinking again. Then I began to write.

_Once upon a time, there was a girl, named Max. And Max…was in love._

Ugh, _no_.

I immediately erased it, scrubbing the paper so hard that half the eraser was gone by the time I deemed the words nonexistent.

I tried again:

_I like to think of myself as invincible. So why do I feel __weak__?_

No, no, that's not it either. I erased that one too.

I sat in silence for a while, tapping my chin thoughtfully. Right across from my bed was this dresser that Mom got me. The thing I really hated about it was that it had a mirror attached. Right now, my reflection was staring back at me.

Blond hair, up in a ponytail. Fading sunburn on my fair cheeks. Tall, thin frame looking like a folding chair in my current position.

I narrowed my eyes, and Max Reflection glared back.

"What do I need to say?" I asked out loud. All right, and now I'm talking to myself.

I could almost feel my sanity slipping away.

I knew very well that I was lying to myself. I knew _exactly_ what I wanted to say. But I was too chicken to just admit it.

My mind wandered, and that one single thought whizzed through my mind again.

_Fang never said that stupid stuff back to me._

That stupid thought—that was the whole reason I wasn't Max right now. I wasn't acting like myself. Ever since I got my mom to remove that stupid chip, and she got me all juiced up on Valium, and I'd said all that lame stuff, that one single thought had been haunting me.

At least if it said "Boo!" I could laugh about it.

I realized I'd been holding my breath, and I let it hiss out through my teeth.

_Just say it,_ I thought to myself.

The Voice had been silent for a few days, so I wasn't expecting any response from it. I tried not to think for a few seconds, trying to hear if it was there, but I could only hear my own thoughts again.

_Just __write__ it._

"Fine," I muttered to myself.

I carved the words into the paper like the pencil was a knife.

**Just say that stupid crap back.**

I hesitated, then underlined it about ten times before I was satisfied.

---

"You've been really quiet lately, Max," the Gasman said when I walked into the living room with a juice box.

"Have I?" I asked absently, biting the little plastic straw.

"It's actually really creepy," Iggy said, turning his head in my direction. "It's almost as scary as Nudge shutting up…or Fang talking."

I gave him a death glare, but at the same time I was grateful he couldn't see me.

"I've just been thinking a lot," I said, shrugging. The sound of the juice box emptying seemed to echo in the near-silence. Then I noticed that only Gazzy and Iggy were there.

"Um…?"

They seemed to get what I was asking.

"Angel and Nudge went somewhere with your mom and Ella," Iggy said. "I dunno where Fang is."

Of course you don't.

"Okay." That was all I said before I walked out again. I went back into the kitchen, and tossed away the empty juice box. After a second, I grabbed another one, and sucked it dry.

I needed to get it out of my system—or, at least, I needed to find out whatever it was that he thought. Was he just being all stoic to keep his pride? Or did he really feel nothing?

_Well, he has to,_ I thought, contradicting myself. _He__ always kisses __me__. Either that boy's in love, or I'm one irresistible piece of ass._

I made a mental note to never think that way again.

---

"Hey."

I had been standing in the middle of the kitchen from who knows how long, completely motionless, and lost in thought. When I heard Fang appear out of nowhere behind me, I actually felt my heart stop for about a millisecond.

I whipped around, dropping my juice box, and I immediately scowled at him.

"Could you ever, like, try, and announce your presence? I can just feel myself going into cardiac arrest."

He raised his eyebrows, then simply shrugged.

"That's all you have to say?" Note the sarcasm.

He smirked, then nodded.

I pursed my lips, then threw my juice box into the trash. "Fine," I tossed over my shoulder. I was beginning to walk away when I remembered the whole reason I had come downstairs in the first place.

My whole purpose had just been to get it over with.

"Max?" Fang's voice jarred me back into reality. I turned around to see that there was only a foot between us now. He looked worried. "Are you okay?"

I looked him right in the eye, and waited a few seconds before answering, "No." My voice shook a little bit, and I bit my bottom lip, angry with myself.

That answer had definitely caught him off guard, and now he looked nervous. "Do you, uh, want to talk about it?"

I looked down at the kitchen tiles, then told myself to grow up. _No one else is going to do this for you_, I told myself. _And if you don't ask now, you'll never have the courage. And then you'll never know._

It sounded so ridiculous—a girl who could fight bloodthirsty Erasers without feeling a single tingle of fear was now getting sweaty palms at confronting the guy she was in love with.

I wasn't exactly sure what irony was, but I had a feeling that this might fall into that category.

I blinked, and looked back up. "I do, as a matter of fact."

Now or never.

"Fang?" I only said his name to get his attention, and really make sure he was listening. When he looked at me, I knew I had it. I took a deep breath, feeling like I was about to take a freefall, and not open my wings to save myself. My knees were shaking. I felt kinda sick.

"Um…" Shit, I _am_ insane.

"I'm…kinda-sorta…really…" I swallowed against the lump in my throat, and risked a glance up. I saw nothing but intrigue. "In love with you."

It seemed like the whole entire universe went completely silent after that. Almost like someone clicked mute on a universal remote. Get it? Universal remote? Like that Adam Sandler movie? Lame joke.

An eternity went by, and I was still looking at the floor, terrified to look up. But his feet were still in my vision, so he hadn't run away screaming. That was a good sign, right?

"Max…"

I was already wincing. Fang was using one of those tones that was like, "I have to tell you the truth, but I really don't want to hurt your feelings."

Bad sign.

Words were spilling out of my mouth. "Look, I'm really, really sorry—Ijustreally,reallywantedyoutoknowthatI'mtotallyinlove,butifyoudon'tfeelthesameway,thenthat'sokay,Iguess,but—"

"Max." He speaking loudly, for once, interrupting me. I looked up out of reaction, right back into his eyes.

He touched his forehead for a second, then dropped his hand back down to his side.

My voice was like a mouse squeak. "So you…you don't feel the same way?"

He had turned his head so that he was looking at the wall instead of me, but now he looked right back into my eyes.

He didn't say anything.

I felt the prickle of tears at the back of my eyes, and I was horrified. _Don't cry, Max, __don't__ cry._ I nodded, looking down. "Okay," I said softly. "I just had to know."

I turned around, and walked back to my room. I shut the door, sat on my bed, then just let the tears fall silently down my cheeks.

---

I skipped dinner. I was starving, but I claimed I was too sick to eat. Nobody argued. I slept a little, but mostly, I was awake and staring at the ceiling, telling myself over, and over what an idiot I was.

_I've ruined everything,_ I thought miserably, turning on my side to stare at the window.

I heard people going to bed at about ten. I heard footsteps hesitate by my door—most likely Mom, Angel, or Nudge—but they never came in.

I was glad they didn't.

I didn't know if Angel knew what happened, but I really hoped that she wasn't trying to. Leave the sick mind alone, yeah?

Sometime around eleven I heard someone coming down the hall.

_Mom_, I thought. _She's way too worried to leave me alone._

I heard my doorknob turn, and the door slowly opened. I didn't move much, especially since my back was to the door; there was really no point in turning around. The door shut again, and quiet footsteps crossed the carpeted floor to my bedside. There was the weight of someone lying down next to me, and I waited to feel Mom shaking me "awake".

Nope.

The only thing I felt was almost a complete half-hour later, when someone was stroking my hair.

I finally found my voice. "Mom?" I asked in a quiet whisper.

There was a soft laugh, and the color drained from my face. I bolted upright, and turned around to stare at Fang in amazement.

"What are you doing in here?" I demanded in a loud whisper, trying to act like nothing happened.

_Psh, no, I didn't just confess my love for you. Again. You're crazy, crazy boy._

"I needed to tell you something."

I frowned, feeling my eyebrows pull together. I pulled my legs up to my chest, and rested my head on my knees, tilting my face towards him. "What? Like what a mess I made? You don't need to rub it in."

"Max, you're an idiot."

"Well, thanks."

"No." He sighed in frustration. "Why did you have to tell me that?"

"Because…" My voice died in my throat. "Because I…" I closed my eyes before I finished, "Because I had to tell you."

"No you didn't."

"Yes. I. Did. It's been eating at me inside out ever since we were in Antarctica. Brigid and you…it was driving me insane." He tried to interrupt, but I didn't give him the chance. "And then before that? With the Valium? I told you that it was just the drug, but it wasn't. That's…that's just how I feel about you. And I just wanted to know if you thought about me the same way. Sorry," I said again. I couldn't remember apologizing so much before in my life.

Fang stared at me for a few seconds, then leaned back against my pillows, looking at the ceiling.

"Your silence is very reassuring," I muttered.

"Max…" He sighed again—he really needed to stop doing that. "I never said I didn't feel the same way."

There was an explosion of butterflies in my stomach, and for the second time today, my heart literally skipped a beat.

"W-what?"

He turned his head towards me, and gave me one of those rare smiles. "Max, you're only an idiot because you always underestimate people." He sat up again, and this time, the distance between us was a lot smaller. "Just because I've never told you before doesn't mean that I don't love you. You just saved me the trouble of having to say it first."

Now I felt…I dunno, incredible. I'm going to sound like such a sappy wuss, but I felt like total sunshine. And, wow, I sound like such a ditz.

I couldn't stop grinning, and that just made me mad. At myself. "You're not lying?"

"Why would I lie?"

"Because you're just weird like that."

I always used to feel so terrified of any kind of prospect of relationship between Fang and I. I knew that, honestly, it probably wouldn't work out. Not now anyway. But there was that possibility. And I got the feeling that in the future, maybe we could stop pretending.

I felt bold. Bolder than ever. For the first time since my slip-up in New York, I leaned over, and kissed him.

And smiled.


End file.
